


The Wicked Way You Thrill

by iPumperdiddle



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Birthday, Birthday Party, Birthday Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Credence Barebone, Cake, Clothed Sex, First Kiss, First Meetings, First Time, Flirting, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, Grinding, Leather, Leather Jackets, Leather Kink, Leather Trousers, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Mild Praise Kink, Not Beta Read, One Shot, Oral Sex, POV Alternating, PWP, Percival Graves is an exotic dancer, Percival grinds on Credence in front of his frans, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Sexual Content, Smitten Original Percival Graves, Smut, Sorry Not Sorry, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Stripping, Surprise Party, Surprises, Teasing, There’s a lot of grinding ya’ll, This is self-indulgent smut as a birthday gift to myself, Top Original Percival Graves, copious amounts of leather, kind of, stripper gram?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-13 03:29:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28771638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iPumperdiddle/pseuds/iPumperdiddle
Summary: It’s Credence’s 21st birthday and his friends surprise him with a party, as well as a special guest.ORCredence gets a lap dance from Stripper!PercivalStripperAU ;)
Relationships: Credence Barebone/Original Percival Graves
Comments: 7
Kudos: 33





	The Wicked Way You Thrill

**Author's Note:**

> Shameless, self-indulgent birthday smut I wrote for my myself for my birthday ;)
> 
> The fic title comes from the song Percival dances to, [Sick Like Me](https://youtu.be/03X0B6u-AxM) by In This Moment

Percival  
* * * * 

The earthy scent of leather is thick, almost heady on the tongue, and Percival can smell it even better after padding out of his steamy ensuite bathroom, towel plastered to his hips, to get dressed for this evenings event. A surprise birthday party where he is to provide the entertainment.

During the week Percival Graves works a normal yet rewarding 9-to-5 job at a security company providing home-security systems, along with peace of mind, to families in Fort Wayne, Indiana. He’s done it for the last ten years of his life and it’s served him well, ensuring a steady paycheck to cover his bills and living expenses, which isn’t too difficult to maintain when you’re single. 

His weekend job is... different.

It’s not something that Percival had ever seen himself doing, in all honesty. It’s definitely a detail he would never include on a work application if he were to ever job hunt again, that’s for sure. Most people in his circle don’t even know. When asked he simply tells them that he provides entertainment for events and leaves it at that. 

Let them decide what it is.

During the week he’s Percival Graves. On weekends he’s Aiden Alpha, an exotic dancer that wears the requested outfits and dances to the requested songs of his paying clients, providing entertainment of a...visually enticing kind.

Percival unwinds the towel, patting at his hair once more before draping it over the footboard of his bed, and examines his ensemble for tonight. 

Leather. 

So. Much. Leather.

Everything from the sturdy jacket he’s owned for over a decade down to the fetish chest harness with large silver rings strategically holding the piece together, leather gloves, breakaway leather pants—Percival adores the looks of mingled shock and delight he receives when he tears them off—and tight, short leather...well, shorts. They’re braided along the sides, giving the occasional flash of skin along his hips, with a teasing zipper at the front that travels well past normal zippers.

The request came in the usual email format, from his friend Queenie Goldstein, a woman he’s known for years, and one of the few people who knows about Percival’s scandalous weekend job.

A surprise birthday party, she had said, for a friend who is turning twenty-one. When asked what theme was desired she told him “Bad Boy” and provided a list of bands the young man liked, most leaning towards the heavier side of the rock genre.

Percival was intrigued—excited, even.

It wasn’t very often that kind of music was requested for a dance, seeing as most wanted something along the lines of “Pony” by Ginuwine, and to see a list of musicians that he himself thoroughly enjoys ignited a interest within him. 

Oh yes, he was certain that he wouldn’t have any trouble offering a tantalizing performance to make this a memorable night for the birthday boy.

As each item is carefully slid on, clinging tightly to him like a second skin, Percival absently reminiscences about the series of events that led to the creation of Aiden Alpha, an identity stemming from his very own middle name, that helps him to get into the dancer mindset.

Three years ago, on his 37th birthday, funny enough, his friends took him to a local LGBTQ+ nightclub to celebrate with drinks and dancing and to watch “Amateur Strip Night,” a fun little event hosted every Friday where people could sign up and try their hand at...well, stripping; $300 cash and free drinks for the rest of the evening to the winner that managed to woo the crowd the best.

At the mention of “free drinks” it didn’t take long for Percival to, with the help from some liquid courage and the excited encouragement of his friends, rush over to the host situated at the DJ’s booth to put his name down for the contest. He can remember the pleasant buzz he had going, alcohol coursing through his veins that dampened his voice of reason. He imagined he would have a bit of fun making a fool of himself in front of a packed bar, and if he managed to snag free booze in the process—well, that would just make his birthday that much better.

The DJ had asked him what song he wanted to dance to, and he blurted out “Porn Star Dancing,” as it was the first that came to mind, having heard that song earlier on the radio while he was getting ready at home. Perfect song to strip to, right?

Several people went before him, each one putting on quite the show that drew out whooping, hollers and wolf-whistles, while they seductively shed down to their underthings and had dollar bills thrown onto the stage by screaming patrons. All of this steadily pumped him up until, by the time his name was announced, he vibrated with a restless energy.

That’s how Percival Graves, a man that installs security alarm systems for a living, found himself sweating beneath sweltering colored lights and a thunderous bass in his chest as he methodically stripped down to his boxer-briefs. Thankfully the nice, red silky pair he owned.

It was exhilarating.

The delighted cries from both men and women alike fueled his confidence and chiseled away the last of his inhibition, and Percival commanded the stage, moving his body in a way that bordered on the edge of filthy, making love to the raised floor with whatever moves he could remember back from the time he took hip-hop classes in college. That had been purely for fun and a way to work out back then, but from the way the crowd ate it up, it would seem those lessons paid off, in more ways than one.

By the time he had finished sensually grinding his way along the smooth wood of the stage to strike a risqué pose, the song cut out and all that could be heard was enthusiastic screams and applause as crumbled bills were tossed to his feet like roses.

Let’s just say it was clear who had won.

Drinks indeed poured freely that night, and as Percival shared another round with his friends, a man approached him with a business card and an interesting proposition. One that he initially laughed at until the alcohol left his system the next day.

It would be very discreet, he was told, by the man he now knows as his employer. Percival had questioned, rather skeptically, how stripping could ever be discreet, and he learned that it was a service ran mostly online where he could pick and choose his clients and hours. If he wanted to quit and dance full-time they did offer a club, unless he wanted to do it on the weekends. Then he could accept whatever events he desired and go to the requested location. Easy, discreet, and it paid very well.

Ridiculously well.

Percival scoffed at the idea of giving up the job he had poured years of his life into to become an exotic dancer. It may not have paid nearly as well as what was being offered, but he truly enjoyed what he did. ‘Just think about it,’ He was told him with a friendly smile, ‘You’re one hell of a dancer and I can help you make a lotta money, Mr. Graves.’

That’s how Percival finds himself in the present, fastening the harness firmly across his bare chest before slipping the leather coat over it, dragging the zipper all the way up until he is fully dressed—head to toe—in a bikeresque getup. A studded leather captain’s cap completes the look, and he carefully places it over his slicked-back undercut, examining himself in the mirrored sliding door of his closet. 

He looks like he’s ready to march at Pride, and that thought has a smile quirking the corner of his lips. If this birthday boy enjoys bad boys, well—he’s in for a wild ride and doesn’t even know it.

_________________________________________  
Credence  
* * * * *

“SURPRISE!” 

A chorus of voices greet Credence as he unlocks the door and enters his apartment. He’s embarrassed to admit that he startled so severely that the paper grocery bag he had cradled in one arm was sent flying into the air, along with his keys.

“Wha—“

The living room of the small one bedroom apartment was decorated with black, gold and silver balloons and streamers; a banner sporting this same color scheme, in bold text, read “Happy 21st Birthday!”

Oh. It is his birthday, isn’t it? Must have slipped his mind. 

Credence still wasn’t used to celebrating birthdays, after all. Mary Lou had seen to that, often telling him and his sisters that the only relevant birthday to ever be celebrated was that of their Lord and Savior; Which was funny, because they never celebrated Christmas, other than to fast and read scripture.

Five years later and his mind still hasn’t grasped the whole birthday concept. That’s what friends are for, right? They’ve certainly remembered his birthday better than he has.

“H-hey,” Credence offers in way of a greeting to the four people smiling cheerfully at him in his living room, “Surprise indeed.” He chuckles breathlessly, slowly wrangling his racing pulse to a steadier pace as he closes the door and enters the apartment, bending to pocket his keys and collect the neglected groceries scattered about by his momentary spike of fright.

A soft, tinkling laugh fills the room as Queenie dances over to help Credence with his task, “Didn’t mean to scare ya,” she murmurs softly as she tucks a packet of chili seasoning back into the brown paper bag before reaching for a can of tomato paste.

“I wasn’t scared,” he defends lightly with a timid smile, “Definitely surprised, though.” Credence flashes his gaze over to the other three occupants, lifting the grocery bag as he straightens up, and offers them the same soft quirk of his lips.

“This all for me?”

“Hope you don’t mind,” Tina perks up. She’s leaning against Newt, her warm expression contrasting with the Englishman’s sheepish one, “If we had told you we planned a party you might have went into hiding,” she cheekily adds. Jacob purses his lips to hide a grin and nods in agreement.

Credence huffs a quiet laugh, “You know me well.” He carries the bag into the open kitchen, setting it down by the sink before walking back to the group hovering in his living room. 

They all surround him, each taking a turn to pull the young man into a warm embrace with their own variation of “Happy Birthday” on their lips, and nicknames that ranged from “Honey,” “Buddy,” “Cree,” and Newt simply saying his name. The way he says it, however, is quite fond for the emotionally stunted zoologist. 

Queenie breaks from the circle with a sugary sweet smile and walks to the kitchen, “How about we get this party started, huh?”

*

His friends really outdid themselves. In the kitchen, where Queenie and Jacob shooed him away, there’s a delicious spread of finger foods. Nothing simple like chips and dip, because that’d be too easy for the couple that loves to cook, right? No, there’s several trays of hors d’oeuvres; bite-size morsels bursting with flavor that he can’t quite pronounce, all of which have Credence closing his eyes in pleasure as he chews. 

The sound system plays at a polite volume in the background, and he’s so flattered to find that it’s his favorite bands—Breaking Benjamin, Starset, Chevelle, In This Moment; a gesture that almost brings him to tears, knowing that his friends went so far in their efforts to throw him the best birthday party that a playlist was made. 

That they care.

Since he’s twenty-one now, Queenie had smiled mischievously and wine was brought out to truly celebrate this special milestone; A sweet rosé that Credence had sampled while over at the Goldstein household, one that he had mentioned tasted nice.

Now they’re gathered in his living room, long-stemmed glasses filled with the delicate pink liquid as Ashes of Eden plays softly in the background. Tina and Queenie are nestled comfortably beside him on the sofa while Newt and Jacob stand in the kitchen going back and forth, both men caught in an animated conversation about some show they’ve been watching recently.

Its kind of strange to have so many people in his apartment at once, but Credence finds that it doesn’t make him uncomfortable. He’s happy. He feels warm and cheerful, and as the wine flows freely and the music plays he sinks and surrenders to the pleasant, fuzzy feeling rising in his head.

“Good?” 

Blinking a few times he lifts his eyes to find Tina and Queenie gazing at him, both wearing gentle grins as they sip from their own glasses.

“Yeah, this is nice,” he admits with a happy sigh, eyes fluttering and a smile that feels far too large for his face coming to life on his lips.

“I feel...really good,” he giggles, nerves loosened by the intoxicating liquid.

The sisters chuckle knowingly and Credence watches as they share a look; how Queenie squints her eyes playfully at the older Goldstein before turning back to him, like they’ve just shared a secret. A soft chime goes off and the blonde woman sets her wineglass on the coffee table to check a message on her phone. There’s a quirk to her lips, and Queenie quickly taps out a response to the mystery person before placing her phone screen-down on her knee.

“Is everything okay?” Credence asks, absently swirling the wine in his hand and enjoying the way the pink liquid sloshes about.

She’s hums softly, tapping the back of the pink and white striped phone case before turning her attention back to Credence. There’s something curious about her expression; lips pursed in a way as to prevent a rogue smile, bright eyes gleaming with a sense of mischief. She’s up to something.

“Oh, everything’s great,” she chirps, allowing her lips to curve in a controlled smirk, “My friend,” she gestures to the phone sitting innocently on her lap, “Someone I’ve known for a while.”

Credence quietly nods and takes another sip of his wine, “Well, if your friend isn’t doing anything, you should invite them over.” Woah, where did that come from? It must be the alcohol swimming through his mind, because he would never have been bold enough to invite someone he didn’t know into his home. But if Queenie knows them, surely they’re a nice person.

The light giggle he receives has Credence blinking slowly, drawing his gaze up to meet the woman’s fond green eyes. He attempts a grin and throws back the rest of his wine.

“That’s a great idea, Honey. I think I’ll do that,” she beams, phone clutched in one hand as she silently takes the empty glass he’s holding and stands, walking to the kitchen with a perky sway to her hips.

Credence watches her refill his glass, setting the bottle down afterwards to tap out another message when her phone chimes once more. He’s watching her expression, and there’s just something there that has him suspicious. 

There’s a surprise coming, and he can feel it.

He doesn’t have much time to dwell upon it, as Jacob, wearing a proud smile, swings around the breakfast bar carrying a three-tiered gold and black birthday cake. The middle tier bears gold fondant stars over smooth black while the two sandwiching it lean whimsically with black and white stripes. There’s a lovely golden bow made from fondant as well, tying the top two tiers together. The number twenty-one is nestled at the top, with lit silver candles encircling it.

It’s adorable and Credence coos at the sight. When his friends gather around the coffee table and begin singing Happy Birthday, he feels his chest tighten with emotion, and it takes every ounce of sobriety he barely retains to keep himself from sobbing.

They’re too good to him. They always have been.

Ever since Tina, previously his social worker, got him out of that nasty situation at the church when he was sixteen. He’s been accepted as one of the Goldstein’s, and now he has Jacob and Newt as part of that, as well.

The family he always wanted.

When they’ve finished their joyful rendition of the song, Credence offers a watery smile, glancing at each one of them before staring at the flickering candles before him.

“Make a wish!” Queenie smiles, throwing the younger man a wink before leaning against Jacob with a soft expression.

With a quiet inhale he lets his eyes fall shut for a moment, holding onto the warm emotions flowing within him, before opening them once more to blow out the candles. 

It was at that exact moment that three sturdy knocks at the front door drew Credence’s attention away from the spiraling wisps of smoke rising from the extinguished candles. He stares at the paint-chipped door before jerking his head back to blink at each person. He’s about to open his mouth to ask Queenie if it’s her friend when several things happen simultaneously.

The blonde woman hurries over to the door while the scrape of a dining chair echoes in the small room. Credence turns just in time to startle when he finds Tina standing right beside him, gently taking his arm and coaxing him to stand. Jacob is hustling to carry the cake back into the kitchen while Newt fiddles with the stereo, flipping through various cds until he apparently finds the one that he’s looking for.

With everything happening at once, he’s not sure where to focus his attention. In his confusion he allows the older Goldstein to guide him to the chair, which has been placed in the center of the room, and just as easily allows himself to sit when Tina encourages him with the soft press of her hands against his shoulders. What is going on?

The front door opens, and instead of answering it like a normal person would, Queenie slips out and quickly closes it behind her. Furrowing his brows, Credence turns to direct his bewildered gaze at Tina, who has sat at one corner of the sofa with her hand covering her mouth, as if she’s trying to hide a smile. She looks at him briefly, offering up a wink before pointedly avoiding his eyes, instead turning to stare at Newt where he leans against the sound system with a crooked smirk. Even Jacob, who has since deposited the cake back onto the counter and returned to sit as well, can’t hide the goofy, knowing grin spread across his lips.

“...What’s going on?” Credence asks dubiously, his voice sounding foreign to his own ears, and he tilts his head with a lost expression. When the three burst into laughter and begin to talk in hushed tones amongst themselves, he frowns and looks back to the door, absently playing with the edge of the cushion he’s seated on.

A phone chimes before Tina lowers her voice to tell Newt something. It’s then that the click of the stereo coincides with the front door opening, and the hitch of Credence’s breath upon seeing Queenie’s friend enter in behind her is promptly drowned out by the tinkling beginning of Sick Like Me playing loud over the speakers.

The blonde woman rushes to get to the couch, throwing Credence a bright smile before she sits, and he finally has a chance to take in the unfamiliar man as he languidly advances further into the apartment with purpose. With a goal. 

With a barely-there smile and dark eyes locked directly on Credence.

A bolt of heat pierces him at the man’s intense gaze. It tingles along his skin, and he can’t help but feel like prey caught in a predator’s sights. Like the rabbit frozen in front of the wolf, frozen at the glint of teeth and about to be consumed.

But he’s not frozen by fear, no. And, shockingly, he finds himself more than willing to be devoured.

Those eyes, that’s the first thing he notices. They’re warm brown, bright and smoldering, set beneath thick, expressive brows. The quirk of lips slowly expands until there’s a flirtatious curve teasing him, and if not for the music playing Credence is certain that everyone would be able to hear the audible click of his throat when he swallows. 

His mouth is suddenly very dry.

As the man slowly approaches, tossing his leather hat on the coffee table and playfully running both hands along the lapels of his leather jacket, Credence can’t help but drink in the rest of him. He has dark hair, styled in an under cut and slicked back, with a distinguished contrast of silver at his temples. 

It’s incredibly attractive.

Heated eyes are closer now, and with an unheard whimper, he catalogues everything the man is wearing. Leather; Every single bit of it. From the jacket on his broad shoulders, to the soles of his boots, and—good God, Credence has never seen anyone this mouthwatering before.

He’s absolutely gorgeous. An Adonis in the flesh. Chiseled jaw, straight nose, tempting lips. There’s two moles on his left cheekbone and Credence could almost cry at every beautiful detail.

The song’s intro progresses as this god circles him like a shark zeroing in on its prey, his fingertips grazing Credence’s shoulders, causing a shiver to rip through the younger man. The careful brush of lips against the shell of his ears shorts his brain out as the man whispers, “A little birdie told me it’s your birthday,” this statement is followed by the man leaning over to the other ear to add, “I’m Aiden Alpha, and I’m here to give you something special.”

If it didn’t register before, what with the lone chair, loud music and strange name, it certainly does now, as “Aiden” comes back around, tauntingly running his hand down Credence’s chest as he stalks to stand before him and gyrates his hips. The dark gaze holds the other hostage as he works his body in time with the heavy music with a sensual flow.

This is a lap dance. Or it’s going to be.

Credence blinks rapidly, briefly casting a glance at his grinning friends cozied up on the couch for the show, before he’s helplessly brought back to the dancer moving in front of him. As Maria Brink begins to sing the first verse, Aiden gracefully slides to his knees with practiced ease and flashes a stunning smile. The man proceeds to place his hands on Credence’s knees, maintaining eye contact as he simultaneously spreads both the seated man’s legs, as well as his own. 

There’s going be a very noticeable, very embarrassing problem soon, he’s sure of it. Credence can already feel the tightness in his jeans as he watches the man roll his hips, and he his jaw clenches when he notices how close Aiden comes to grinding down against his living room floor with each dip.

This is torture.

Sweet, agonizing torture.

Swallowing hard, Credence braces himself in the chair, not once taking his eyes away from the delicious image kneeling between his legs. Aiden drifts with the music, effortlessly lifting himself to stand as the song begins to shift into the chorus.

‘Am I beautiful as I tear you to pieces?’

The man swiftly straddles his lap in a fluid motion, throwing his head back as the music ebbs and flows. Credence’s cheeks begin to burn viciously at the pleasant heaviness on his thighs. Aiden isn’t putting down his full weight, but holy crap, he wished that the man would. It feels perfect. It feels right.

It’s both everything, and yet, not enough.

It should feel embarrassing and filthy, but he really can’t find it in himself to experience those things right now. Not as he stares raptly at the man weaving his body into delicate waves against him. Not when those dark eyes bore into his skull with an intensity so thick he can taste it on his tongue.

He’s several inches from being humped and—shit, he just does not give a damn. 

Credence trembles with the effort it takes to not reach out and touch Aiden. Instead, he grips the underside of the chair with such force that his fingernails slide for purchase. It’s as if the dancer can sense it, because the man smiles softly and leans forward to whisper in a husky voice, “It’s okay sweetheart, you can touch me if you want.”

And just like that he finds himself giving in, hesitantly reaching out to stroke a shaking hand along the leather jacket and earning a gorgeous grin before Aiden gingerly takes hold of his hand to guide it to the metal slider near his throat. The man’s lip quirks as he ushers Credence to unzip the jacket, helping him the entire way until they reach the hem. 

It’s then that the music shifts back into the repeat rift and Aiden swiftly stands, eyes glinting playfully as he suddenly snatches his jacket wide open to reveal a tight, leather harness hugging his bare chest.

That’s the second time Credence’s brain shorts out, just as his erection gives an enthusiastic twitch. 

Jesus Christ.

If the room were silent he would have been able to hear Aiden’s rumbled laughter. As it is, his expression is warm and pleased at the reaction he drew out of the younger man, if the genuine smile is anything to go by. Credence struggles to swallow.

This man is sculpted. This man isn’t real.

This must be a dream, because Credence doesn’t have gods in his living room dancing for him. He doesn’t get stared at with hungry eyes.

It just doesn’t happen.

As the second verse begins, Aiden smoothly circles him once more, dragging a heavy hand along Credence’s shoulders and the back of his neck in passing. He gives a soft squeeze to his nape before he takes up his position in front of the younger man once more, hooking his thumbs into the stainless steel rings of the harness as he again works his hips in synchronization with the song. 

Now Credence is able to see the well-defined muscles in Aiden’s chest and waist. He’s not completely ripped, but he’s definitely in great shape, and with every teasing gyration his eyes are drawn to the man’s midriff, and he stares, transfixed at how the muscles dance and roll beneath the smooth skin. Strong hands reach out to take his own, effectively capturing his attention. That’s when he lifts his gaze and watches Aiden slip back into his lap, directing his fingers to grasp his hips.

He leans back at a sharp angle, placing one hand on Credence’s shoulder to steady himself as he turns his body into one giant ripple, smoothly using every muscle to create a wave effect. A sharp wolf-whistle cuts through the drum and guitars and he jerks his head to see Jacob clapping with a huge smile, Tina hiding her face as her shoulders shake with laughter, Newt fiddling with his wallet and Queenie sipping wine with a pleasant expression.

Oh God, that’s right. There are others in the room.

Heat rushes to blister his cheeks once more at the forgotten realization, but he doesn’t have time to feel humiliated because Aiden is leaning towards him once more, draping one arm around Credence’s shoulder while he caresses his cheek with a knuckle to regain his attention.

“Eyes on me, handsome,” he coos into Credence’s ear, “Only me.”

“O-ok,” he replies breathlessly, followed by a stuttered yelp of surprise when Aiden gently nips the soft lobe. The action sends a jolt of pure arousal to his aching cock, and Credence is helpless to silence the moan that traitorously leaves his lips. He casts a subtle sideways glance at his friends before locking his wide gaze with the man dancing above him.

The chorus is near to repeating when Aiden ducks close one more time to quietly inquire, “So birthday boy, what’s your name?”

“Credence,” he manages to get out before the man grins and places both hands on the backrest of the chair to slowly slide his body up and down above Credence’s lap, a seductive motion that effectively simulates the act of riding ones...well, it looks like he’s riding a horse in slow motion, and that’s the image the younger man desperately grasps to dismiss the previous sexual image in his mind.

He’s working to control his breathing when something is pressed into his clammy palm, and with a shaky exhale Credence quickly glances down to find that Newt has given him a fold of bills. He eyes the cash skeptically, turning his baffled gaze on the Englishman, who gestures for him to turn back around.

It takes a moment to click, but when it does, he lifts a single between trembling fingers and looks at Aiden. The man’s chuckle can’t be heard over the pounding music, but he can feel the vibration of it from where their chests are pressed together. As the song dives into instrumentals, the dancer rises once more and slowly backs away, never breaking eye contact as his hands slither down to the front of his leather pants.

Credence almost topples the chair backwards with a stunned shout when, in perfect time with the musical climax, Aiden hooks his thumbs behind the waistband and literally snatches the fabric from his body. The clothing is carelessly thrown aside and the man is left wearing nothing but his boots and shorts so small and so tight that absolutely nothing is left to the imagination. Oh God.

He’s immediately drawn to the generous outline beneath the clinging material, and a strangled sound leaves his throat when the man turns and plops himself down, backwards this time. He grinds in earnest, hips swiveling in perfect rhythm. 

There’s no space between them, and Credence bites the inside of his lip to try and keep quiet. The firm cheeks rubbing against his groin offer no mercy, and the man must feel no shame, because he turns his head to give Credence a flirty smile before reclining back to press flush against the other. It grows even wider when Aiden catches his eye and guides his gaze down to where he’s lifted the elastic of his shorts away from his skin. 

Past the band he can vaguely see a dark patch of hair, and with an obvious tremor to his hand Credence takes the fold of cash he was given and slips it under. Aiden releases the elastic and it promptly slaps down over the money, half of it sticking out, and holy shit—Credence can’t believe he just did that. He can’t believe this is happening.

God, he doesn’t want this to stop.

The song is almost over, the final chorus is bellowed out and the man bounces a few times before standing to turn around and straddle his thighs one last time. The expression on Aiden’s face is wistful, almost like he doesn’t want this to end either.

“What’s your real name? Please?” Credence begs as the other moves his body along with the dying melody.

Licking his top lip, the man leans in to murmur, “Percival,” there’s a moments hesitation in his dance that shows his break in character as he adds, “You’re adorable, Credence.” The smile in his voice causes a warm sensation to blossom within the youths chest, and as Percival leans back with strong arms circling his neck, he glances down at Credence with an expression of warm fondness.

That’s not something he ever thought he’d experience from a total stranger, and the foreign feeling it invokes flutters about his stomach.

The room is painfully quiet as the music finally comes to an end, and Percival throws him a wink, surprising him yet again when he bends to kiss Credence’s cheek.

Well, he definitely hadn’t expected that. 

Any of that.

“Happy birthday. Credence.” The man says softly, stealing his breath away with a shy smile that totally contradicts the entire striptease that was just performed. He’s temporarily stunned while Percival carefully rises from his lap, and the casual brush of fingertips at the nape of his neck only furthers his stupor. It’s a gentle touch, intimate, something a friend might do.

Or a lover.

When he’s gained enough coherency to his thoughts, Credence chances a peek at the man as he collects his clothes. His heart skips a beat when he finds those deep, intense eyes studying him in return, and this time when he goes to swallow, the click of his throat is near deafening in the quiet space.

_________________________________________  
Percival  
* * * * 

When Percival had first arrived and met Queenie outside the apartment he wasn’t really sure what he was getting himself into. His friend of ten years gently pulled him aside to tell him that the others were setting the scene for his dance, and that the intended person had no idea what was happening.

“He’s not gonna freak out on me, is he?” He had felt the need to ask as he carefully measured her facial expressions. The bubbly blonde swiftly waved his concern away with a soft laugh and told him that, despite the undoubtable surprise, his arrival would be well received.

There wasn’t a chance for him to gather any other information before Queenie’s phone pinged, a message informing them that everything was ready. 

She entered first, and Aiden Alpha followed behind her, the persona swiftly taking root as he crossed the threshold and...

Laid eyes on the most exquisite young man he’s ever seen.

The kid is fucking gorgeous.

Aiden quickly jumped into the backseat and Percival struggled to maintain an image as he was forced behind the wheel. This was unexpected.

Seated in the chair before him is what he could only describe as an angel. Porcelain skin covered sharp features; high cheekbones, plush lips, and a jawline for days. Dark feline eyes, widened in surprise, met his own and Percival had reeled in a broken breath.

Thankfully the music had already begun playing to drown it out, and Percival mentally chided himself before scrambling to get into character. He had been hired for a striptease, after all, and he was not one to disappoint his customers.

Especially ones as sinfully beautiful as this creature in front of him...

*

Dancing had been a test on his self-control, and Percival only barely passed. 

Weeks prior, when the song had been chosen, one he was familiar with, he spent days devising a basic routine to flow smoothly with the music. Being a heavier genre than what he was used to dancing to, Percival practiced at home until he was satisfied with the number and confident in his performance.

The actual dance was a nightmare for him, because each time he made eye contact with the birthday boy, those lovely eyes gazing at him with something akin to reverence, his mind would go blank. It was as if his thoughts were a cloud of smoke, blown away in an instant by a soft exhale.

His professionalism was crumbling drastically, and it took all the strength he could muster not to grasp the boy’s face between his hands and kiss him senseless. Oh, how he desperately wanted to.

Straddling the man’s lap had been both sweet bliss and the worst torture imaginable. At one point he had glanced down to discover, much to his delight, a noticeable tenting at the front of birthday boy’s lap. He nearly found himself with the same problem before hastily brushing the image from his mind to instead focus on further teasing the man.

Was that cruel of him? Maybe. 

But as soon as Percival had laid eyes on him, he knew. He wanted this breathtaking vision writhing beneath him by the end of the night.

Credence. The name spoken from those rosy lips, to match such mesmerizing beauty. Whether it be a one night stand or something more long term, he was determined to sample this rare delicacy.

Percival could practically taste him on his lips already, and it was driving him mad with desire. He’s had plenty of partners in the past, but none have ever captivated him like this.

Enthralled like this, nothing would sate him.

*

The room erupted with excited chatter after the dance, and Queenie helped Percival gather his clothes after teasingly asking if he wanted to stay in just his boots and shorts. He was almost tempted to say yes when he turned to see Credence looking at him with a hungry expression while distractedly returning the chair he had been sitting on back to the kitchen table. He took a deep breath before tearing his eyes away from the youth to reply to something the blonde woman said.

An invitation was extended to him, and even though he had every intention of staying, he told Queenie to make sure that it was alright with Credence, before he disappeared into the bathroom to politely get redressed. As much as he wanted to get closer to the other man, Percival wasn’t too keen on assuming that he was welcome to join in the festivities.

If the kid didn’t want him there, he would respectfully leave; but not before snagging his phone number. 

A gentleman yes, but a determined one.

After everything was back in place—pants correctly buttoned, jacket zipped up and forgotten hat atop his head—Percival opens the door, letting out a startled sound when he’s suddenly pulled into the hallway with a firm yank, only to have the softest pair of lips in existence smashing into his own.

His brain temporarily goes offline and races to reboot itself as his hands drift into autopilot to fist into the person’s shirt. Blinking the shock away, Percival opens his eyes to see that it’s Credence, and all tension melts from his shoulders.

He couldn’t have asked for a better situation to bring the two of them together, though he’s certainly surprised the younger man made the first move...So to speak.

With a groan tickling his throat, Percival contributes to the kiss, burying his fingers into the soft hair at the nape of Credence’s neck to pull him flush to his chest. The man moves his own hands up to firmly grip the others forearms, with a pressure tight enough to ensure Percival won’t pull away.

That’s the absolute last thing he wants to do. 

Their lips slide together with a fierce passion, and it isn’t long before the older man walks Credence backwards to press him against the opposite wall to deepen the kiss with a tilt of his head. 

Rational thought is hanging from the ledge of his mental window, but he manages to swiftly draw it back in when he realizes they’re standing there in the hallway making out when other people could easily walk up on them.

“Wait,” Percival pants when he breaks the kiss, reluctantly turning his gaze from the flustered man in front of him to glance towards the living room. It’s awfully quiet, and that in itself is concerning.

Credence’s breathing is just as heavy, and he stares up at the other man with arousal glazing his eyes.

“W-what’s wrong?”

A chuckle bubbles within his chest and Percival studies the others face with an amused expression. He’s impressed with how seemingly shameless his little cherub is.

“Nothing,” he murmurs, slightly perturbed with the apartment’s eerie silence, “It’s just that...there are other guests, and—“

“Oh, no. They went home,” Credence assures him.

Percival blinks, confusion wrinkling his brows, “Went home?” 

There’s a nod and eyes half-lidded as they roam the older man’s face, “Yeah. I asked them to.”

He did not see that coming.

Before he can ask, “It’s okay, Queenie was the one who suggested it.”

Oh. 

Ohh.

The question rests on his lips, a breath from being spoken, before Credence dissuades it with another searing kiss. The trembling hands on his forearms slide up to gently frame his face, and Percival surrenders to him. To the tender swipe of their mouths. The insistent roll of their hips. It’s the full cock poking at his thigh that inevitably breaks him, and with a low growl he slips his hands to the back of Credence’s knees to lift and coax them around his waist. He lets out an adorable squeak of surprise but follows the guiding hands and quickly wraps his legs around leather-clad hips.

Percival supports the man with relative ease, both hands eagerly cupping the delicious curve of cheeks in his palms as he surges forward to mouth along the flushed neck. Credence throws his head back, the crown of his skull audibly thuds against the wall while a strangled keen rises in his throat. The sound goes straight to Percival’s cock and he groans.

“Oh fuck, you’re really sensitive aren’t you?” He murmurs appreciatively, drawing back just enough to drown himself in those dark, catlike eyes.

Credence returns the gaze sheepishly, his sharp cheeks blazing a fetching red and his lips parted slightly. The urge to walk further down the hall, kick the man’s door open and toss him on his own bed to be ravaged was swirling at an overwhelming intensity inside him.

“I guess,” he rasps, snatching Percival’s attention to his mouth by darting his tongue to lick his lips. He’s slowly lured in by that motion, almost there with his own when Credence quietly adds, “I’ve never done this before.”

Percival freezes, carefully leaning back until he can see every inch of the younger man’s face.

“Hold up, ‘Never done this before’?” He blinks rapidly, uncertain that he’d heard correctly, “‘Never done this’ as in you’ve never hooked up with a stranger before, or—“

“I’ve never hooked up with anyone...” Credence admits in a timid voice. His expression quickly shifts from lust-addled to nervous self-consciousness.

He’s floored by this confession, to put it lightly. The way the younger man engaged him screamed confidence and experience. Percival had no idea he was cradling someone so pure in his arms, and that sudden realization has him gently lowering Credence’s legs for him to stand before him.

“You’ve never—“ he exhales a rush of air and looks down to where his hands rest on those slender hips. He huffs a disbelieving laugh before bringing his eyes back up to Credence’s face, raising a brow, “Really?”

The other valiantly lifts his chin in challenge, meeting Percival’s gaze with a burning intensity that causes his stomach to flip over itself.

“Does that change things? You seemed awfully eager a minute ago before I even said anything,” Credence purses his lips and takes a deep breath, “I’m not some fragile, desperate little virgin, you know. I’ve just...there’s never been anyone before that I’ve felt a strong pull towards...I-,” he huffs once more, clearly annoyed by what he perceives to be contempt from the older man.

Oh, now that just won’t do.

It’s as Credence is opening his mouth, most likely to add to his ongoing rant, that Percival quickly sweeps him off his feet bridal style, resulting in a sharp gasp, and he can’t help the light laughter that overtakes him.

“Wha—“

Percival holds him close and strides a short distance down the hall to what he presumes to be the man’s bedroom. With careful maneuvering he’s able to twist the smooth handle and push the door open, quickly using that same hand to flick the light switch as he stalks into the room. It’s small, as he imagined it would be, seeing as the living room and kitchen are terribly claustrophobic. Despite the cramped quarters it’s vibrantly decorated and cozy. There are posters of musicians covering the walls, some he recognizes and others he doesn’t. The furniture is sparse but lovely, all sleek and black, beautifully matching the Queen sleigh bed he drops the man on. 

Credence stares up at him in a daze, his eyes have once again gained that telling smolder of arousal. Percival lets out a pleasant hum when he notices how nicely the gold and steel-blue duvet compliments his complexion.

Laid out this way he looks ethereal; stunning and otherworldly. Percival groans at the thought of stripping Credence down to add more of that beautiful pale skin to the canvas of sheets, and it’s that thought that has him hurriedly kicking off his boots before climbing onto the bed above the other.

With a soft sigh Percival bends to kiss the man beneath him before pulling back with a smirk.

“I don’t think any of those things about you,” he murmurs, giving into the temptation to nip at the unmarred throat and relishing in the broken moan he’s rewarded for his effort, “I just want to make sure,” he punctuates his pause with another teasing nip, “that you want this.”

Two hands rise up to wrap around his biceps, and the steady grasp grounds him. Dark eyes gaze up at him with purpose, determination. Percival feels a swell of affection gripping his heart.

“I know what I want,” the younger man whispers, following the statement with a deliberate roll of hips, bringing their straining erections together and causing Percival to drop his head with a groan, “and we may not know each other, but I can’t help but feel attracted to you—“ Credence carefully bucks up once more with a choked noise in his throat, “I want you. Even if it’s for one night.”

Swallowing past the lump in his throat, desire pumping through his veins, Percival draws back and locks their eyes, certain that the heat he sees in Credence’s reflects his own. With a warm smile he says, “Let me take care of you tonight and we’ll see where it goes from there.”

With a low hum he dives in and captures the other in a sensual kiss, tilting his head to deepen it. Credence gasps softly and gives into the silent request laid upon his lips by Percival’s tongue, parting them to allow access, which is taken instantly. The older man braces himself with his forearms against the mattress and gently frames Credence’s face with his hands as he dips into the wet hollow of the his mouth with deep, sensual licks. There’s an attempt from the other to mimic the action, and Percival’s chest rumbles with a laugh, completely endeared by the inexperienced ministrations.

“What’s so funny?” Credence’s pants when their lips part.

“You,” Percival murmurs, amused, as he lifts himself to sit back on his haunches. He stares down at the other as he unzips his leather jacket in one smooth motion, removing and draping it along the footboard without breaking eye contact. The open hunger on Credence’s face shoots a surge of heat to pool low in his stomach, and he’s not sure how long he’ll be able to hold onto his self-control before it shatters and he devours the other.

He reaches for Credence, ushering him to sit up, and grabs the hem of his shirt to pull it over his head. That’s quickly tossed aside with ample enthusiasm on the young man’s part, and Percival can’t stop the delighted giggle that bubbles out from him. Credence stares at him for a moment before joining in, and the sound is something so sweet and so pure. Percival wants to hear more of it, every day for the rest of his life.

That thought catches him by surprise, but he finds that even though his dick is in charge, his heart and mind shine through to cling to that longing.

He wants to see Credence again after this.

Fighting the urge to clear his throat and let this vulnerability show through, Percival reaches for the buckle of his chest harness and blinks when a hand rushes out to stop him.

“Leave it on,” Credence croaks, face beautifully flushed, “Please. I—I like it.”

“Yeah?” Percival teases with a smirk, slowly sliding his hands down from the harness to dip his thumbs beneath the waistband of the leather pants, “Can I take these off?” He purrs, tilting his head in question.

“Oh my God,” is what he hears, and it’s so hard not to crack up. Credence reclines against the headboard, licks his lips and nods, dark eyes watching the older man with consuming attention.

“I uh, yes...please feel free to get rid of those.”

Percival’s chuckles and slides off to stand by the bed. He’s tempted to snatch them off like he did during the dance, but instead decides to pop each clasp one at a time, occasionally bringing his gaze up to study Credence’s face. The sheer amount of lust pouring off of him is thick and intoxicating, and Percival really needs to get these pants off because they’re on the threshold of being painfully tight.

When he reaches the last few snaps, he opts to snatch them off as opposed to bending down, and delights in the strangled noise that brings out of the other man. Letting those drop to the floor beside Credence’s shirt, Percival takes his leather captains cap and places it on top. Now he’s down to only the harness and kinky shorts, and he takes a moment to stand there and allow the other to soak in the sight.

Oh, and the way those glossy eyes roam his body is beyond flattering. He’s being stared at in a manner akin to worship, and it’s doing wonders for his ego.

“See something you like?” He rumbles with a husky voice as he casually steps closer.

He can see how the pulse in Credence’s throat flutters, and groans at the sight of it, eager to lay claim to that pumping patch of skin. Percival also takes the time to rake his eyes over the porcelain chest and slender waist, noting the light dusting of dark hair that trails along his torso and disappears beneath his waistband.

The younger man hides his face and chuckles nervously, fingers twitching just above the button of his jeans, like he wants to join Percival in the strip down but he’s scared to. Perhaps that can be fixed.

When the silence stretches, Percival takes the reigns of the situation and moves in to replace those anxious fingers with his own, gauging the others reaction carefully as he slips the brass button through the slit and draws the slider down. The expression he’s presented with is raw and honest, brown eyes bounce between his face and the activity, but there’s no resistance. Sensing his trust, Percival offers a gentle curve of his lips before taking hold of the waistband and sliding the jeans down and off, discarding the clothing with a flirty wink.

“Is this okay?” He questions while slowly climbing back over the man, startled at how breathless his voice sounds. They haven’t even done anything and he’s already worked up.

What is this kid doing to him?

Credence’s throat clicks loudly when he swallows, licks his lips and nods.

“Yes, perfect,” he whispers, hesitantly placing his trembling hands on the older man’s hips, “I—“ he sighs heavily before shaking his head with a little laugh, “God, I have no idea what I’m doing.”

The honesty tugs at Percival’s heart and he flashes a smile he hopes is comforting.

“That’s okay, sweetheart. I’ll take care of you.” With that vow made he eases his body down against the other man, careful not to press with his full weight, and initiates another kiss.

Into that kiss he pours the overwhelming passion that he’s feeling, allowing it to control the wet slide of his lips and tongue. He licks and nips, strokes and plunders, the act itself further fueling the desire burning through his veins like a wildfire. He’s been hard ever since Credence caged him outside the bathroom, and it’s to the point where he can feel his heartbeat pounding in his cock. He’s desperate for friction, and with that singular thought he begins to meticulously grind his hips down.

Credence mewls and rises to meet him each time, bucking in earnest in search of his own stimulation. It feels so fucking good.

“Is this why you sent your friends away?” Percy groans, kissing a line across the man’s jaw and working his way down his throat, “You wanted me all to yourself, hmm? Greedy, greedy boy,” he teases, finding Credence’s pulse point and ravenously dropping his mouth there to suck a bruise.

The man keens, throwing his arms around Percival’s back to clutch the harness tightly.

“Oh shi—Yes, yes,” he cries out, rutting their hips together faster.

Percival hums appreciatively as he continues to suckle the skin, feeling a possessive determination to leave his mark on this beautiful creature. The urge to bite down takes him and he gives in, mindful as he presses his teeth into the tender flesh. Credence’s shout of the ecstasy nearly sends him over the edge. With a low growl he softens his jaw and pulls back to admire his handiwork, licking a long stripe over it and up the man’s neck.

“I’d like to give you my gift now,” Percival purrs, teasing his fingertips against Credence’s bare stomach as he slowly lowers himself to nestle between trembling thighs. 

“Gift?” The man chokes out and, ohh—he’s already so gorgeously wrecked. Flushed skin, panting, shallow breaths and shaking like a leaf.

“Oh yes,” he murmurs, staring mischievously at the man as he reaches down to get rid of those pesky boxers. He slides them off, making sure that Credence is still okay with this, before gazing down at the miles of milky skin on display before him. A groan rolls from his throat when he finally sees the younger man’s cock where it rests, curved hard against his stomach, full and flushed. The swollen head dribbles a few drops and his mouth floods with saliva.

Without so much as a blink he tosses the underwear aside and settles himself between Credence’s legs once more, wraps his fingers around the base of his shaft and dips down to lap up the glistening beads.

Hopefully the walls aren’t thin, because the pure animalistic noise that rips from the youth borders deafening. It’s going to haunt him for the rest of his days, and he is absolutely looking forward to that.

Hands shoot out to fist into his slicked hair and Percival hums softly, lifting his eyes to maintain contact as he slowly takes the plush, heated tip into his mouth. Strangled moans and muddled gibberish spill from Credence’s lips as he begins to suckle and tease the slit with his tongue. He bobs his head, and groans his own pleasure at the salty taste. While he licks and sucks, Percival uses his hand to stroke what his mouth hasn’t touched yet, momentarily pulling back to coat his fingers with the seed and spit mixture. As soon as he slides his hand back down he recaptures Credence between his lips with an enthusiasm a pornstar would be proud of.

Arousal pulses through him at the whimpers, and it’s just another stroke to his ego when the man begins to writhe and buck his hips. Percival takes his cock deeper, relishing the heavy weight on his tongue, and uses one hand to hold Credence still while inching the other up to tease a nipple.

An endless flow of moans echo throughout the room and he can’t stop the low chuckle that escapes him, mentally patting himself on the back for the intense reaction he’s managed to pull from the kid.

“P-Perc—“ Credence cries out, his fingers twitching and flexing in his hair, like he’s trying hard not to hurt Percival. He smiles around the cock in his mouth, flashing a saucy wink before surging down to take the rest of it to the back of his throat.

Credence makes a series of broken sounds and scrambles to grab at the harness. Percival stays for a moment with his nose pressed to the dark hairs at the base before effortlessly sliding back to the tip, stroking the underside with a quick swipe of his tongue, and dropping again to repeat the process. 

While the man mewls and wriggles under the assault of sensations—nipples rubbed and tweaked, cock swallowed whole—Percival allows himself to grind against the mattress, taking some of the edge off of his own throbbing dick, and is startled when he hears a light rattling of noise before something hits the bed and bounces with a thump next to his shoulder.

Curious, he lets Credence’s cock slip from his mouth with a wet pop to find a bottle of lube lying there innocently. He looks at the man and quirks a brow.

“Please,” Credence pants and wiggles his hips, “Need you soon.”

The flood of desire that rushes through Percival makes him lightheaded and he rests his cheek against the man’s inner thigh to collect himself.

“Fuck, you’re killing me here kid,” he growls and gives a soft nip to the supple flesh, reveling in the resounding yelp it earns him, before grabbing the small bottle and popping the cap. He applied a generous amount to his fingers before setting it aside to dip his hand past the swell of Credence’s balls.

“Have you done this to yourself before?” He muses aloud, teasing the puckered entrance with the tip of his finger and a sly smile at the corner of his lips.

“Yes,” Credence moans, throwing his head back against the pillow when Percival slides in to the first knuckle, “A f-few times.”

“Mmm, that’s hot,” he coos and closes his eyes at the image that creates; Credence lying in this bed, naked, three fingers deep in his own hole. Percival rubs against the bed a few times to pacify the ache between his legs and carefully presses deeper.

The hot, vice-like channel takes him in greedily. 

“God, you’re so tight,” he praises hoarsely and slowly pulls his finger out to thrust back in.

“Ahh—“ The man arches his back and tightens his hold on the harness around Percival’s chest, in turn tightening his grip around the man’s finger in the process, and fuck—he can’t wait to bury himself.

“Mmm. Yes sweetheart, let me hear you.” He uses one finger briefly, circling and stroking, before slipping a second in next to it. He’s careful in the prep, making sure that he’s not hurting Credence, but there’s a sense of urgency building between them that’s beginning to fog his mind. His cock throbs and he’s drunk on arousal, and it takes all his strength not to pull his fingers out and mount him here and now.

No, just a little more.

“Per—Percival,” Credence’s hands have begun to roam aimlessly, retreating from the harness to card through his hair, dropping to caress his neck and shoulders and down his arms. The man is thrumming with need and he can practically feel the vibrations under his skin.

“Almost, sweet thing. Gotta make sure you’re ready for me,” he croons, keeping and eye on the other as he suffers through the torture of being made to wait. When he’s certain Credence can handle it he presses in a third finger and gradually stretches him open. He pumps at a steady pace, twisting and scissoring, and a soft squelch accompanies Credence’s cries of pleasure like an obscene melody.

Licking his lips, Percival zones in on the man’s face and crooks his fingers, searching for that sweet spot that’s sure to make Credence scream.

And scream he does, head turned to press his face into the pillow as his body ripples and convulses.

“Ooh there it is. Atta boy,” Percival praises with crooked smile, zoning in on that bundle of nerves with precision at his fingertips. He repeatedly strokes his prostate and devours every noise and twitch, before briskly pumping his fingers in and out, effectively fucking them into the youth.

It’s the way his name is cried out brokenly that has him withdrawing his fingers and crawling over Credence. He snatches the lube up and then pauses, realizing they might have a problem.

“Shit, I don’t have a condom...” 

There’s a damp hand on his chest pushing him to sit back, and he watches with quiet curiosity as Credence twists his body halfway off the bed to struggle with his discarded jeans, producing a silver foil from one of the pockets.

“I do,” he ducks his head sheepishly and presses the packet into Percival’s hand before lying back down, “...Queenie gave it to me,” he chews his bottom lip and flushes a lovely shade of red.

Percival laughs. He should have known Queenie would be the hookup. She’s very helpful like that.

“That’s awfully kind of her,” he murmurs, voice laced with amusement as he tears into the foil and removes the condom, “I’ll have to thank her, she managed to save our evening.”

To his delight Credence giggles and drops his head on the pillow with a shy smile, “Yeah, she did.”

This kid is adorable. He has to see him again after tonight.

Percival grins at him before looking down at his leather shorts. He doesn’t have the patience to get up and remove them, so he draws the zipper all the way down until the sides fall open and he can slip his cock out. He unabashedly smirks at the soft gasp Credence makes when he sees it and rolls the rubber on and down to the base. He casts a glance at the other as he pops the lube cap and slicks himself up, using this moment to search one more time for any doubt or hesitation, only finding lust blown eyes and parted kiss-swollen lips.

Still he has to ask, “Are you sure you want this?”

“Yes,” is the immediate answer, and he groans softly.

“Mmm, so eager for this dick,” he purrs, grabbing a pillow to slide under Credence’s hips before lowering himself over the other and lining his cock up. Just the light brush of his tip against the tight opening is enough to make him shiver in pleasure. He’s not sure how long he can last.

“Ready?” He whispers, voice rough and low.

“Yes, please...”

Swallowing hard he nods, and looking Credence in the eye he begins to push in. 

It’s tight, almost painfully so, but he knows the stretch was enough, and as soon as the head pushes in past those rim of muscles he releases a long, drawn out groan.

“Fuck, you feel great,” he grunts, inching his way into the tight, heated space.

Credence’s eyes are glazed over and his jaw is slack in a silent cry. There’s no pain to be found in his expression, only surprised delight. His brow is wrinkled in concentration, and Percival finds himself leaning down to smooth it with a kiss.

“Still with me?” He pants softly, pressing in as slow as possible so Credence gets used to sensation of being filled.

“Yes,” he gasps, eyes finally gaining awareness and focusing in on the older man, “It’s different from my f-fingers,” he whispers, before lifting his face to shyly kiss Percival’s jaw, “But in a nice way.”

His breath hitches at the tender gesture, and Percival realizes that he’s never had a lover this gentle before. It brings about a protective fire blazing alive within him. An overwhelming need to hold and shelter this man. To keep him.

His rough groan melts into a timid whimper as he finally bottoms out, burying himself deep within Credence. The young man keens against his ear, and teeth catch the soft lobe to gently pull it. The taunting bite of teeth sends a tremor from the nape of his neck to the small of his back, and Percival lets out another vulnerable sound. He’s never been this strongly affected by anyone before, so why this kid?

“I’m gonna start moving,” he rasps, demonstrating his intention by languidly rolling his hips. The sensation causes them both to vocalize their pleasure, Credence moaning into his shoulder and Percival groaning deep enough to make his chest rumble. He braces himself with his forearms framing the others head before slowly pulling his hips back, and fuck—the tight drag feels like heaven. 

“Where have you been,” he pants, planting gentle kisses along the expanse of Credence’s throat as he carefully pushes back in. In and out, nice and slow.

Credence babbles nonsense, hooking his fingers around the leather and steel rings of the harness to hold on as Percival moves above him at a torturous pace.

“You feel so good,” he moans, hips twitching when the other man suddenly spasms and clenches around him, “So perfect.”

Percival lets out a shout when long legs suddenly snake around his waist to draw his body closer, ergo pulling him in even deeper. Credence cries out at the same moment, convulsing mildly, and fists a hand into the older man’s dark hair.

“More, more—please,” he begs, voice high and strained.

“Fuck,” Percival grits his teeth before snapping his hips forward, grinding down to rub against that bundle of nerves until Credence is virtually sobbing. When blunt nails dig into the muscles of his back, he increases the pace, pounding into the younger man with controlled thrusts and wet slaps of skin.

“Yes!” The word is choked into his ear, and a growl rips from his throat.

“Yeah?” He prompts in a playful voice, pressing Credence down into the bed as he pulls back to rest on his knees, not once missing a beat with his thrusts, “Fuck, look at you,” he hisses, grasping the man’s hips tightly for leverage as he once again cranks the dial up on his speed, slamming in with near brutal strength. 

If he were told to stop or slow down, he would do so in a heartbeat, but the expression on Credence’s face is pinched with pure ecstasy. He’s clearly enjoying himself, and that encourages Percival to keep at it, with fingertips digging into the man’s thighs and lips stroking sloppy kisses along his leg.

“Pe—Perc—“ Credence tenses and reaches a twitching hand down to stroke his flushed cock. There’s a glinting line of seed that’s connected from the reddened slit to his quivering stomach, and that sight creates a wave of pleasure to sizzle through his groin, the white heat threatens to drag him under and oh, he’s so close.

“Yes baby,” he groans, maintaining the other man’s gaze, “Are you close, hmm? You gonna cum for me?”

Credence throws his head back with a shattered cry, hand pumping furiously as his body begins to tremble. The muscles surrounding Percival begin to clamp down, and he’s right on the edge. So close to toppling from the top into the churning typhoon of his climax. Just a bit more—

“I-I...I’m—“ the man beneath him stares up with a tightly pinched brow, lips chewed red from anticipation and he looks desperate. He’s struggling to chase his own orgasm, hand slapping loud enough to match the rhythmic clapping of Percival’s fierce thrusts.

“Oh sweetheart, do you need a little help, huh?” Percival croons, and he knows his voice is wrecked, “Here...let me,” he breathes out softly and bends down to replace Credence’s crushing grip with his owns. “That’s it, let go. Cum for me, darling.”

That’s the magic combination of words and pumping strokes that snatch the man into oblivion, eyes screwed shut and mouth open in a silent scream as he shoots ribbons of seed over Percival’s knuckles and across his jerking chest and stomach.

That’s the moment Credence’s body coils tightly around his cock, and he’s only able to get three more steady thrusts in before his hips stutter and he buries himself deep, spending hot and thick into the condom. Percival falls against Credence and grunts through his release, body wracked with intense shakes as a mushroom cloud of white pleasure erupts within him. He hasn’t cum this hard in a long time—to the point where he’s lighthearted and his vision spots.

When his sight returns and his body stops trembling, Percival feels long fingers gently combing through his hair.

“Wow,” Credence says, soft as a whisper, and it’s then that he looks up to find the young man smiling indulgently at him.

“Wow,” Percival agrees with a lighthearted chuckle, suddenly feeling very tired. He eases off and onto his side, pulling the other with him as he goes, “I hope that was as good for you as it was for me, because...Damn.”

Credence is the one to laugh this time, soft and melodic as he nuzzles into his chest.

“I didn’t know it was going to be that intense,” he admits in a quiet voice, “It was...incredible.”

“I’m glad,” Percival hums softly, allowing himself to experience this intimacy, humbled that he was the young man’s first. His stomach flutters and, with a lump in his throat he hesitantly asks, “Can I see you again? You know, after tonight?”

There’s quiet for a moment, long enough that his stomach drops. Why would someone want to spend time with an exotic dancer other than to fuck them? It was silly to even—

“I was going to ask you the same thing,” Credence mumbles into his neck. “Yes. Yes absolutely,” followed by a disbelieving chuckle.

And in an instant Percival is laughing with him, pressing his cheek to rest atop dark waves as joy builds in his chest. He can’t believe his luck.

“Hey,” Credence leans back to look at him with a serious expression, “Want some cake? It’s coconut.”

If he chortled loud and gracelessly, well...There’s only one person here to bear witness to it, and they’re currently staring him down with determination.

“I would love some cake.”

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END

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! :)
> 
> 🎂🥳🎉


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